


Rushed Love

by ProjectFreelancerTrash



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 11:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4018492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProjectFreelancerTrash/pseuds/ProjectFreelancerTrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Grimmons, Fluff/Angst, one of the two gets amnesia and forgets the other</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rushed Love

Simmons really needed to wake the idiot. It was almost dawn and as acting Captains, they needed to set a good example. He didn’t hesitate to look at the glowing clock on their dresser, and pry himself out of Grif’s grip to get up out of bed. 

Grif grunted and started groping around for Simmons; Simmons moved around their shared cabin to grab a towel to take to the shower. Grif peeked one eye open to watch with mild content as Simmon’s moved around. 

When Grif noticed that Simmons was moving towards him to get him out of bed, he threw his blanket over his head and loudly rolled himself over with a whine. 

“Grif, seriously, we are going to be late! You need to get up.” Simmons scowled, snapping Grif with the towel. 

Grif let out a loud groan as he snatched Simmons around the waist and yanked him on to the bed. Simmons was quick to protest by pushing hard against Grif’s chest. In turn, Grif just held on tighter as he cherished the moment. 

Simmons, however, decided enough was enough and pinched Grif hard on the arm. Grif let out a cry of pain and let Simmons go. 

With as much dignity as Simmons could muster with his messy hair, and partial nudity; he fixed himself while propped up on the side of the bed. Grif watched on again in pleased content. He loved watching Simmons move around and behaviour. He liked taking in the moments and absorbing his time with Simmons. 

It was something he learned to do with people he loved. He learned to enjoy them while he could because he never knew when the last time with them is really the last time. 

When Simmons made to stand up, Grif grabbed his hand softly and swiped his thumb affectionately over the pale skin molded with metal. Simmons grumpily yanked his hand away with a pout as he headed towards the shower. Grif just smiled an intoxicated smile, waggled his eyebrows, and asked, “Can I join you?” 

Simmons let out a small laugh, and answers back, “I would say yes just to get you out of bed but you’ll whine that I didn’t commit. Besides, we’re gonna be late. Maybe later today; how about that?” 

Grif threw himself back on the bed and groaned. Simmons simply ignored him since he knew full well sooner or later Grif would get up and join him if not for shower sex then just because he could spend a bit more time with Simmons. 

Simmons washed himself, and watched as Grif tiredly scrubbed himself clean too. A sigh escaped Simmons’ mouth as he noted how clean Grif was not getting. He took the bar of soap from Grif and scrubbed him down before placing a kiss on Grif’s nose. Grif tried to sneak in a few more kisses but Simmons was having none of it. 

He hated being late, and he knew the only way to rush Grif along was to continue to bait and hook him along. 

Once he dried himself, he tugged on his suit and yelled to the still showering Grif that he was going to the mess hall. Simmons heard the immediate end of Grif’s shower and nodded in approval. He set off to the mess hall knowing full well Grif wouldn’t be far behind. 

Simmons figured he would have more time to sit and eat with Grif when Carolina showed up with a mission. Grif barely walked in by the time Carolina finished explaining what they had to do. It had him groaning since he to had hoped him and Simmons would have some breakfast time together. 

Carolina sat in Grif’s spot as she finished explaining to the group that was actually present at the mess hall. “We have to go to a cliff not far from here. It has an outpost that isn’t very big, or outstanding. It was looked over before but now Kimball and I want to look it over.” She offers, gesturing softly with her hands. 

Grif sat himself down on the far end of the table that was furthest away from Simmons since all the other seats were full. Grif was a little miffed while Simmons didn’t even notice. 

“Gear up, and get ready. We are leaving in 5 minutes. I want no stone left unbroken.” Carolina orders while standing up and walking out. 

Simmons wrapped Grif’s food up so that he could eat it on the road as Grif sidled up next to Simmons. Everyone was dispersing to get to their vehicles. “And I want to go back to bed but that’s not going to happen.” Grif responds sarcastically to the long gone Carolina. 

Simmons scolds Grif, and tries not to respond with his pent up laughter as to not encourage him. Grif sighs, and takes the satchel of food Simmons made for him. They stood up together but Simmons tucked his hands in to keep Grif from holding them. 

They didn’t touch as they mounted up for the drive in their usual spots next to Sarge. The lieutenants were there so PDA was kept to the minimal for Simmons sake. 

He didn’t like showing affection in front of the younger ones. 

The couple didn’t really get a chance to talk since Grif was shoveling his mouth full of food while they trekked over to the station. Simmons didn’t think much of it since he was keeping an alert gaze on the environment. 

It felt empty without Grif’s chatter but Sarge plugged it up pretty well by bragging about his last installment in the jeeps. He went on and on about diesel fueled rockets that could be attached to the warthog. 

Just like Carolina said, the cliff wasn’t far from the base much to Grif and Simmons’ relief. Sarge came to an abrupt stop and jumped out with the rest of the small team. 

Grif finished up and shoved the wrappers in between the seats before arming himself. He jumped out of the warthog, before going to the back to help Simmons down. He didn’t need the help but Grif couldn’t quite help himself. 

“Spread out and search the compound.” Carolina orders with Epsilon right at her heels. They moved past Grif mixed up in a conversation of numbers and coordinates. 

Grif eyed them before glancing around to find a spot that would be best for not doing anything. Simmons was already marching himself over to a building that overlooked the cliff. With a gleeful smile, Grif followed him. 

Simmons scoped out the entrance of the building before sidestepping to let Grif in. His ankle collapsing beneath him in an act of clumsiness. Simmons let out a shout that as the edge of the ground he sidestepped on began to crumble, sending him backwards. 

Grif thought on his feet and tackled Simmons to the side as the ground crumbled beneath Grif. Grif attempted to move quick enough to get of the breaking ledge but there was nothing to push against. 

Simmons rolled quickly and hung on the edge in an attempt to grab Grif just like he did all those years ago. Fingertip brushes from Grif never felt so heartbreaking to Simmons. 

Simmons couldn’t quite get the sound of the helmet cracking out of his head. It replayed in his head as he screamed for help while scrambling to get down the side of the cliff. It mocked him as he restrained himself from touching Grif as he waited for the Pelican. 

All these wrong corners and bends in Grif’s body made Simmons want to scream. All those breaks branding that sound of a cracked whip meeting the air upon impact into Simmons’ mind. 

He waited outside the medic tent with a pacing movement that refused to stop. He tried focusing on his footsteps, the thought of Grif this morning, or the love they had the night before. He tried focusing on anything that could scrub the incessant sound of what should’ve been him, and not… 

He nearly cried tears of joy when they let him back into the recovery ward. Grif hadn’t woken up quite yet but they said he would with a full recovery despite the breaks, and head trauma. 

Simmons waited, and held Grif’s hand. He slept by his side with his head rested on Grif’s arm. He sat there staring at Grif’s sleeping body while counting each even breathe Grif let out. He combed his hair, and scrubbed his body clean. 

When he wakes up, Simmons promised to himself, Grif is going to get so much rest, so much cuddling, and an earful for making him worry. 

What would it be like when he woke up? Would Grif say something snarky or complain about something? Would he let Simmons smother him in kisses because he was going to have to tolerate that whether he liked it or not. Would he be able to get up and move back into their cabin together? 

All these questions buzzed around Simmons’ mind as he tensely waited for Grif. 

Three days passed before any movement alerted the medics that Grif was waking up. Three days of hope welling up in Simmons that he was going to wake up. 

Grif groaned and opened his eyes as the medics swooped in to intercept the waking Grif. The medic team helped Grif sit up, and tended to his needs. They all kept their distance from Simmons as he gripped nervously to Grif’s hand. He waited impatiently for Grif to say or do something, anything. 

He immediately regretted that course of action when Grif, who was rubbing his head with one hand, glanced down to see his hand interlocked with Simmon’s maroon hand and without hesitation yanked it away with a sound of disgust. 

Simmons smile tightened but he dismissed it. Grif, after all, had just woken up from a three day coma after falling off a cliff. He was going to be grumpy. So, Simmons tucked his hands in and waited for the medics to disperse and quit fretting over Grif so he could. It didn’t mean he wasn’t going to stop watching Grif like a falcon. 

Grif, who was rubbing his temples, noticed and snapped, “Take a picture, it will last longer.” 

Simmons’ eyes widen and his smile dropped completely. Grif glanced around the medic bay, and growled, “Where the hell am I? This isn’t Hawaii.” 

The whole room seemed to stopped before the bustle became frantic. Grif’s demands shot through the roof as the heat was turned up in the medic bay. 

He asked for Kai. 

He asked for his mother. 

He asked for everything and anything but Simmons. 

Hell, every time Simmons tried to calm him or help; Grif would push him away or flinch away from his touch. 

Eventually, when they had to wrestle Grif down and explain to him what happened; they also sat Simmons down and told him the truth. He was unneeded, and unremembered. His presence was causing more trouble than it was worth. 

Maybe Grif’s memory would come back and maybe it wouldn’t. 

Simmons shakily stood up and put one foot in front of the other as he left the medic tent. The words clogging his ears. 

“You were enlisted in the army.” _Lies._

“We don’t know where Kaikaina Grif is currently located.” _Lies._

“You are a part of a team called Red Team. They all are your acquaintances.” _Lies._

Simmons bit his lip and chucked his helmet as soon as he made it into their bunk. Grif and him were not just acquaintances; they loved each other. They were filling him with lies, and he couldn’t tell the difference because he didn’t remember. 

He didn’t remember him, or them as a couple. He couldn’t remember anything about loving him. 

Simmons undressed and thought back to three days ago where he brushed off Grif in that very spot. He stared into the mirror, and thought about how he slapped away Grif’s lingering hands. He sat in the cold shower and sobbed as he realized how angry Grif looked at him. That steel in his eyes that he hadn’t seen since Blood Gulch. 

His hand briefly touched his lips as he remembered the kiss he left on Grif’s nose before he abandoned him in the shower. That was the last kiss he shared, and it wasn’t even much of a thought other than to convince Grif to hurry up. 

To hurry up was all that was on Simmons’ mind the last time he shared any contact with Grif. To hurry up and save Grif was the last thought but, the last good thought was to hurry up so they can start the day. 

Simmons tugged on Grif’s orange hoodie with his own boxers. The sleeves ran past his hands atrociously but he just used them to bundle up his face in as he slide into the small bed they shared. The smell of Grif engulfed him as he closed his eyes and thought back to that morning. 

Grif’s lingering touches turned painful as his love for Simmons’ was ripped out of him. The warmth of Grif’s protective grip turned cold. 

If they had been late that morning, and just basked in each other than maybe he wouldn’t have regretted rushing his love. Now, the sand had fallen, and his love was ended.


End file.
